I’m home right now. Had to bring some things back. Everything I’m taking will not fit in a single car, trip back and forth. Unless you rented a truck? I’m Next of Kin. MINE!

My Transpo got waylaid too. Just have to sit and wait for my driver to come tomorrow.

There’s been a lot going on since Mom died. Well, that’s quite an understatement if you’ve ever had to deal with someone’s entire life since they’ve shuffled off “This Mortal Coil.” That one’s okay. The Band. However, every single person has said some variation of “Pass.” Passed, Passed On, Passing, Passing On.

Being a writer, I not only love every single letter that creates a word, but also words themselves. Then, that creates more love and lust for everything. Including, but not limited to: odd, emotionally laden, archaic phrases and expressions. Many times they can be all three. Perhaps this “Pass” business fits in there somewhere. Despite that possibility, I’m too exhausted to learn at this moment. It just strikes me as rather unusual.

Why won’t anyone say anything related to death? We’re also talking about multiple generations! Those of her generation, me and my sister, then my sister’s children! She died.

None of these people are Buddhist. If anything, I should be saying, “Passed On” because of my Buddhist beliefs.

Moreover, you can practise Buddhist beliefs and philosophy without the entire issue of coming back in another life form. If you disagree, come talk to me. Buddhism isn’t always that peaceful either. Monks from differnt sects have gone ballistic; yelling and screaming, throwing things to actually injure each other. Quite amusing.

Things haven’t been that bad for me though. At least physically.

I have a lot of feelings about my Mom dying. About my Mom living! Many of them conflicting, confusing, painful and sorrowful. Anger too. I also know happy, funny and not necessarily so negative. Although, there is one thing I did not question at all, not for a second. As soon as I knew she was going to die (ultimately of bone cancer) not after she died, I would never be the same person again.

That can happen, right?

Right?

Am I wrong here?

Things have been so out of control, trying to deal with everything in a practical manner, I haven’t had any time to process a single thing. Maybe a tiny shred of some emotion has managed to reach the surface, but it’s been very brief. Only then, a few tears have escaped, and rolled down my cheeks. But no matter what, I refused to let any more out.

Unless I was on my own. Then I could cry. Sometimes, many tears would come out, yet I couldn’t identify why or what on earth I was feeling. What was the trigger? What was making me cry?

There was another reason why I would only cry alone. It was much stronger, and my mind was crystal clear regarding this situation!

I’m staying at my “Dad’s” place. I’m only calling him that because everyone else is. I still don’t feel he’s actually my Dad. I kicked him out of my life over 15 years ago after he stole $5,000 from me. Well, I caught him. Then it took forever for him to pay me back. That was just the final straw.

I’m now being reunited with many extended family members on his side. After cutting them off for more than 20 years? They’re all hugging me, telling me how much they love me, how so, so sorry they are about my Mom. Gee, that’s not more to deal with, is it?

So I’m DEFINITELY not crying in front of them! I’ve already had enough “touchy-feely” from you, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be of any help dealing with all of this from a Hospital Psych Ward. Some days, I feel like I should be in one. Some days, I feel like I’malready in one!

When this is over, I have no idea what is going to happen. It’s going to happen anyway though, so there’s no point in worrying about it. You can’t rush grief. You just go through it.

ASIDE: my friend who is taking care of my mail and apartment while I’m away just popped by. He told me his friend died today. I couldn’t believe any of my senses. We’re both friends with a guy in my building who knew the deceased. Looks like we’re going to have a grief party.

I think I’ve used that before. When things have gone sideways, pear shaped, become frozen, completely imploded, people have been stalking me, I’ve been stalking me and many other things.

Here’s a new one. I’m now visually impaired to some degree, so forget using my Mac. Even tiny mobile screens can become brutal.

“Visually Impaired?” you ask.

Modus diagnosis operandi is Continual Migraines. Shrapnel in my brain, from being admitted to hospital for a Stroke. That was a year ago. Except it wasn’t a Stroke. It just sure as hell looked like one!

So it was probably a TIA then. They can present almost exactly the same way. The primary distinction is no damage or insults to the brain, whereas a Stroke generally shows something when you look at any/all parts of it.

Plus YOU can show a lot after a Stroke.

Well, my brain’s been insulted a lot. By seizures, falls, people telling me I’m stupid, and yes, prior migraines. However, this is a different braingame. Too much.

Migraines can mimic Strokes and TIA’s so I probably didn’t have one of those either. It was “The Migraine Heard Around the World.”

I’m not kidding. I’ve been through a lot of funky medical experiences but this? It was beyond belief. Surreal. My head really did explode. Okay, it didn’t but at the time…you get it. And my eyes. Psychedelic and black vision.

Two new drugs. Side effects. One of the two pulled for several reasons. The last drug to treat the problems. The problems are still there. The drug is new so who knows what will happen. You’ve just started the drug, so you need more time to see if it works, and the side effects go away.

I DEFINITELY needed a break the day my uterine biopsies were done. My OB/GYN did them last week.

Although, before I continue, this Post might be a bit much for the squeamish. So consider yourself WARNED.

It was the second most painful procedure I’ve gone through in my entire life. The first being the insertion of a urinary catheter while just lying on an examining table. The Doctor put it in faster than completing the sentence:

“Okay, this is going to hurt a bit.”

I screamed at such massive decibels. I still wonder to this day if I didn’t scare the hell out of all the other women in the waiting room. Or perhaps, only dogs could hear me.

I don’t remember if any women were in the waiting room. I was like 18 tornados trying to find the exit doors when everything was done. This was for ongoing UTI’s.

I have no clue what my OB/GYN was doing for her biopsies. However, I can say she’s thorough? Holy shit. Or holy blood?

I have a new Fibroid, the lining of my uterus is fuller, thicker etc. Basically, a lot more blood and tissue for an egg to implant, but not good as my Fibroids are taking up space there too.

The biopsies, though? They’ll be benign. THEY.

I could “feel” her almost slicing me up all over the place!!! Not like a simple “Punch Biopsy.” Those are like a small poke. You feel like you’ve just been vaccinated with a large needle.

After we were done, she told me quickly, “Move up the table. Move up the table. I don’t want to get any blood floor.”

Like I said, she must be…thorough?

She told me to relax, take my time, I did a great job (she said that as we were doing it, I could take a break.) It took me so long to actually move, then clean up, then try to get dressed…they actually sent a nurse to check on me.

BWAH-HAH-HAH!!!!!!!!

Ah, I love Medicine! I wonder what my hysterectomy will be like?

My OB/GYN is lovely though. Only two things to note for the anaesthetist:

1. Not to be picky, but if you’re thinking about Propofol? It makes me sick. Midazolam, please?
Granted, those were only for less invasive things I’ve had done. Still, no Propofol in your Alchemy.

2. DO NOT forget I’m on Propranolol. I’d like to wake up after surgery.

Why Propranolol? Based upon a fairly educated guess, I’m now dealing with chronic migraines. It can be used for prevention. Maybe kicked off from when I had every sign of a Stroke, and was chucked into hospital last summer.

Wow! This is a bit of a Post! Writing it when I feel like I’m in between being on Morphine and Heroin.

Not that I’ve done Heroin. Am I spelling it correctly? Have I slept with a Heroine? Do I need one? Holy crap! Damn straight I do! *laughing*

No, I’ve just talked to people who have used it and what it was like for them; what they experienced. Did I ever find out what some people can experience!

Utterly fascinating! I realized why so many people could become addicted to it.

I’ll also say it’s utterly fascinating why I’m getting stoned out my mind. Well, it is to me because I really get off on Pharmacokinetics.

I’ve gone through every med I take and found the answer. Plus extra stuff which is just icing on the cake.

Super-awesome Post to write, but hells bells no, not now! I can’t even handle this screen anymore.

I mentioned on Twitter that it might, might be time for me to hang up my Blogging Hat. Or, to say stop my Blogging Hands. That would be more appropriate.

It’s not an ongoing, forever-we-experience, Blogging Crisis. It’s not Writer’s Block. I could think of many things to write about.

Things have changed. Some that are easy(ier) to explain, some I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try. Some I don’t even know if I can explain to me!

My Blog has been up for nine years. I don’t know how long any measurement that means. In terms of living, averages of any kind, but that’s pretty irrelevant, I think.

I mentioned the word, “living.”

Are Blogs really living entities? I believe the answer is a very firm, no. We MAKE them living entities.

I made an analogy on Twitter as well, regarding the “feelings” between both my Blog and me, as a person. I said, “I feel like I have phantom limb pain.”

It’s true. Something has been severed. The “living entity” I have created, that which was so connected to me… It’s not anymore… But to what degree, and even what part of my body, I do not know…yet.

Despite still writing a bit more, I have been tremendously unhappy with my Blog. The beginning of things being severed? There were times I couldn’t even look at it. Now, things seem so, terribly disjointed and I can’t fix them.

They’re still working on getting me an appointment at the Stroke Management Clinic. Which is fine. Referrals can vary for time periods.

Sometimes you have to appear sick by the Doctors, sometimes healthy by them, maybe be their best friend, or kiss lots of nurses in the “Paperwork Closet.”

Or just get lucky. Apart from any Paperwork Closet Activity.

When I called yesterday, it turned out the paperwork hadn’t been sent. This, from the (third now) hotel, the Ambulances have always chauffeured me to, and upon arrival, with great aplomb. The Orderlies should be playing, “Pomp and Circumstance” EVERY time.

So the Stroking, I mean Striking Woman gave me the exact number to call at the other hotel, to have my Paperwork (Closeted or Otherwise) sent over to their hotel.

Closeted or not Closeted?! Have we not moved past the Stone Age and given all of these people their Rights and Freedoms! Ho! Oh, Ho! Ho!

The Paperwork was sent but it was basically end of day. So, call back today. I thought the Striking Woman would just give me an appointment as typically, all Medical Administration Assistants do. But I received a nasty surprise.

“Okay, PA…I’ll put you through to Triage now…” Click.

Okay. Yes, when you are chauffeured to hotels you go through ER Triage. Who is about to die? Who has cut their finger? Although, children are Triaged quite quickly and with great care.

Look up the word: IATROPHOBIA.

Never did I expect to be transferred to a person over the phone, to discuss my problems in any “Triage Manner.” If ANYTHING, I thought they would Triage appointments based upon Doctor Reporting from the patient, the full examination, all workups, tests.

And boy did I have a FULL Neurological Exam! Things were done to me a million miles beyond so many basic ones I can do in my sleep!

At one point, he was testing my leg joints, mobility in different ways, and other reflexology–not just the “sit and tap the knee.” Wait. He did do that apart from all the others. I just wasn’t sitting.

My legs were up in the air. And there was no need for a woman in the room! I had my pants on. But at one point, it was like a combination of two gentle forms of Shiatsu and Swedish.

ASIDE: I am addicted to Shiatsu.

The strangest Neurological question he asked, was the most bizarre I’ve ever heard. Probably will remain so.

“If you comb or brush your hair, does it ever hurt? On one side of your head? Both? Nothing?”

WHOA! HOLY MEMORY! I screamed like hell having my hair brushed and combed as a kid! What on earth does thatmean?

Anyway, what does the title of this mean? I started to drift off into TIA Land on the phone with the Triage Guy.

God, we were almost coming to blows. I have to warn EVERYONE new I talk to that I don’t mean to sound like a “Professional Patient.” I’ve studied Medicine. I was going to pursue a Career in Medicine. It’s just that sometimes life doesn’t always go as planned.

I also said I was unprepared! I had to make a list of so many things! So much happens (in the back of my mind to argue against your pseudo-points!)

So, fine. Conversation ending, then WHAM! I said right now, happening, told him what was going on. Speech starting to slur, rambling, needed dark glasses immediately!

I can’t get anyone to help me with my apartment that still looks like a garbage dump with all the millions of trash bags all over it.

Could I get anymore frustrated? Oh, you bet I could! I want to take my mobile and throw it across the room until it shatters into bits. Impossible. Futile.

IT WOULD JUST KEEP LANDING ON GARBAGE BAGS!!!

When should I attack “The Bags?”

I want to be really, really,reallysure there won’t be any problems. I’m still supposed to wash all the clothes in my closet.

Because I couldn’t get any help beyond doing regular laundry.

In four days. Who could do that period?

ASIDE: How do you wash and dry a lovely, wool, winter coat where the length is mid-calf?

YOU CAN’T! YOU NEVER WASH AND DRY WOOL!

So I went to the Building Manager. We can get this white powder that supposedly is really effective for the stupid, little…

But as I was leaving, he said, “Be SURE to wear a mask.”

Oh, my god. Where does that rate on the “Pesticide Meter.”

When the real Treatments were done, we had to leave our apartments for four to six hours. I waited six and was still breathing toxic fumes with a fan and window open.

I have a couple of N95 masks from hospital. I’ve been put into Iso (the Isolation Department in the ER) four times for pneumonia! Not kidding!

Why Iso? I get fevers so high (104°F?) they don’t know what’s wrong with me. Even though I do.

Although, with temperatures that high, you don’t fool around. Slight increase? Forget Iso. You’re now in the Morgue.

Still, on the medical side I am very sick. People don’t want to risk getting as sick as I am, or put others at risk.

They also need to get into me IV fluids to rehydrate, reduce the fevers, antibiotics, painkillers… One time it was Morphine.

That was ordered for the worst time ever. Pain for the coughing and a way to try and relax the muscle spasms of my lungs.

It didn’t work but I felt pretty relaxed otherwise. I wanted to ask the nurse for more since I was pretty confident I’d cough up one of my lungs through the constant tissue damage anyway. I knew she wouldn’t shoot me up again though.

By that, I mean through a secondary IV Port, set up with a super fast drip for the bolus. She didn’t cook it up and go straight for a vein.

Oh, yes. A bolus? It’s not something that sounds like your cat or dog puked up. It’s just a tinier IV Bag. It would probably have something special in it. Medically required and used specifically. And again, probably with a pretty fast drip because they want to get it into quickly.

However, in some emergency situations, they can grab a spoon, cook up fast and shoot you up in a jiffy. Then, hopefully you’ll be feeling REALLY GOOD.

Certainly a hell of a lot better than you weren’t feeling before.

I emailed my Building Manager about this Powder because I’m not taking any chances. My Immune System is more messed up apart from the Respiratory business.

The N95 masks are better than the Medical Procedure ones I already have. I tried to sleep in one when I came home to my toxic garbage dump, but they’re round. Sure, that’s comfy.

I can sleep in my Procedures because they’re basically flat. But even then, they can get tossed across the room if they bug me, or I’m having a fitful sleep, bad dreams, who knows.

There are some things I can put away. Things that aren’t clothing related, stuff treated like all my stationary, other objects.

I was talking about Bedbug Treatment earlier. They run like crazy through our vents so if one person can get them, in can be a bloody Five Alarm Pesticide Fire for the rest of us.

Due to this “New and Improved” (I love that oxyMORON) the MORONS around here are making us wash our entire living spaces. And I don’t mean that annoying Febreeze™ commercial. I mean it for real.

It’s even more fun because I live in a Bachelor. Not at least a one bedroom.

Anything you can imagine putting in a washer and dryer to clean, we (I) have to do it. Alright, a wee dose of sarcasm, BUT NOT THAT WEE!

Afterward, secure tightly in a garbage bag for Pest Control Treatment. Which I find yet another thing oxyMORONIC.

I doesn’t hurt my other valuables that I would NEVERput in a washer and dryer. Like my BOSE WAVE III. So, if they’re worried about Bedbugs in every single stitch of our clothes, linens, every piece of fabric that touches us, why do we have to launder it over and over?

So here’s what I want to know.

It doesn’t affect stuff on bedside tables, art on walls, books, CDs and DVDs, Televisions, dishes that might be out because you didn’t get a chance to wash them all yet, food in cupboards, misc. things on shelves, blinds, curtains, any kitchen appliances…

Well, why the hell don’t you just leave all the fabric stuff out in the open and have it all sprayed too!

Harrumph.

Oh, and on Tuesday they’re treating my place for ants and mice. However, we have “special ants.” They’re called Pharaoh Ants. Very easy to deal with.

They like water, so just keep any damp areas wiped dry. Then they go away.

Although, they can be Techie Ants too. I’ve found them skirting around my Laptop screen when using it. Maybe they were just curious as to what I was writing. Either way, no harm, no foul. They didn’t cause any damage.

Back to the Bedbugs. I believe my Second Treatment will be on Thursday. I couldn’t even manage to do all Preparations for the first.

You see, under my “regular” health conditions, I need to take a guy I know to go grocery shopping with me. I can’t lift the heavy bags!

I also have him help me with laundry because it gets pretty bad going up and down, up and down…

A bag of clothes slung over my shoulder with one hand. The other, holding my cane and a jug of Detergent.

I’m not complaining here. Know that. Just the facts of the case. What I will complain about is that our Laundry Room has five Washers and 10 Dryers.

Now, we have the above and a head injury so unbelievable…well, it is quite unbelievable so try to imagine it when washing my apartment with it!

I get migraines that appear like I’m having strokes. Neat, huh?

A stroke. Picture that. Even on it’s own.

Granted, sometimes they are not as bad, and SO symptomatic; waving a huge flag with every sign listed. That was when it started and I first went to hospital. In my Chart, they Rubber Stamped: STROKE PATIENT!

However, after Discharge I did have another that sent me back to hospital. Thus, this “thing” is highly unpredictable. And painful. And weakening. And EXTREMELYDANGEROUS.

I lose a significant (more than?) degree of both gross and fine motor skills. PA fall down go BOOM. In fact, I almost did doing the damn laundry the FIRST time for this!

Wait. I did fall a bit. I remember because I immediately wrapped and curled my arms and hands around my head. To protect it if I went all the way down. Like my head isn’t (severely!) enough?

TBI is an acronym for Traumatic Brain Injury. The term is generally used for a head injury that’s more than a bump on the bean that you’ll get. One that won’t significantly affect you, and will heal quickly. Like a mild Concussion.

However, a more serious Concussion that takes too long to heal, acquires problems, and possible chances something might not heal? Post-Concussion Syndrome? That would then be shifted to a TBI.

All head injuries can make you SO tired and want to sleep. That can be part of the healing process. But when stuck with massive, permanent, can be treated or not, your degrees of sleep can be astonishing.

I’m minimum 12hrs a day, but sometimes more. On some days I would kill for more. Caffeine or not. Like today.

The information and guidelines to prepare for this Bedbug Treatment? It’s more like something actually written by the Gestapo. It makes me wonder if anyone without any challenges could do it all?

Moreover, it’s given to you four days in advance. Moreover, moreover, I live in a Co-Op. The By-Laws state, if you need help for any health conditions, you are to obtain a Doctor’s Letter stating why you need help–and what your issues are.

FOUR DAYS??? I got mine for the First Treatment on a Friday. Thanks for that. So I was at least ready for the Second. This was charming.

Despite my letter being Crystal Clear, I was told I had to explain exactly what I needed help with. In Detail. Then, the Co-Op would see what they could do. They could only do so much.

I began citing the portion of the By-Laws regarding all of this, only to be interrupted, that I had to read them, “properly.”

I have a wonderful relationship with our Manager. We talk, we joke, he knows I know the By-Laws back to front. I do things to make this place run a lot easier for him.

Why is he not doing the same?

My emails to him now. *laughing* I’m trying to “maintain” a Business Tone. Have I reached the Antagonistic Tone yet? I don’t mean to sound that way. But it’s called: Documentation.

I found a little cart I have that I thought was broken. One of those metal, grid-like ones you can use for shopping. It turns out it’s not broken at all.

I could use it for laundry. Still, there is absolutely NO WAY I can do what is required (again, like I have a stroke, and only having a few days.)

I think I could do my laundry with my little cart. It actually supports me evenly, so no cane! Completely irrelevant though.

I’m going to have more tea. Try and wake up. Then do a couple of loads? It’s so late now nobody will be in there.